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My love for Henry is… electrifying. Passionate. Exciting. Obsessive. All-consuming. Maybe even feverish. It’s new love, which isn’t the same as old love. I know that. And it’s unfair to compare one with the other.
But it’s too simplistic, because that’s not all I feel for Henry. I trust him more than I do Cam. Is that a strange thing to say about my partner? I respect Henry more, too. I know he’d never cheat on his girl. And whatever Cam says about the sex surrogate being a therapist, I can still only see what he did as cheating.
Cam is like the moon—he only reflects back the love I give him. I’m not sure he’s ever shown me any love of his own.
Henry is like the sun. He sears me with blistering heat—but that’s not all. He brings me warmth and brightness, and makes me feel positive, enthusiastic, and joyful. He gives me solace and support. He nourishes my soul, which, I realize with some surprise, Cam has never done.
And then I think about the fact that Henry can’t give me children, and press my hand over my heart. I know he doesn’t want to go through IVF. He had two years of monthly disappointments, and I know he’s afraid a repeat of that experience could kill whatever feelings we have for one another. But it doesn’t have to be like that, right? If we were to support one another, and deal with it together, we could get through it.
And if he were to decide he couldn’t do it, what then? Do I turn my back on a relationship with him to have one with Cam—or some other man—just because I want to be pregnant one day? Is having a child more important than having a loving, supportive relationship? Oh God, what a question to have to ask myself.
He knows how hard this decision is for me. I know I shouldn’t message you, I know I should leave you alone. He understands. And it’s in my hands. If I were to tell him now that I’m not leaving Cam and it’s over, he wouldn’t contact me like this again.
I think about us sitting next to each other in board meetings, me mixing up the Rubik’s Cube, him doing it again and passing it back. Those silent conversations we’ve had for years, telling each other we’re thinking of one another, although we’ve been unable to voice our feelings.
Cam is my partner, my lover, my confidante, but I’ve never felt about him the way I feel about Henry. And he’s never felt about me the way Henry feels about me, I’m sure of it.
Duty. Responsibility. Coulda, shoulda, woulda.
Passion. Warmth. Solace. Support. Love.
I’m not a Hindu. Or a Christian. Or a Pagan. I don’t worship Brahma or Vishnu or Shiva or Jesus or Hecate or Papatuanuku. I pick and choose what I want from different religions to form my own belief system based on moral codes like love, peace, wisdom, and truth. I don’t care what other people think about that. Physically, socially, I’m a mishmash of cultures, and my belief system is the same.
I’ve read some of the Vedas, a good portion of the Bible, researched a lot about Maori gods, and also about Paganism. And from everything I’ve learned and read, one image jumps into my mind right now. It’s from the Tarot—card sixteen of the major arcana, called The Tower in most decks. The picture shows a tower that’s been struck by lightning, tumbling down, shaken to its foundations, with people falling to their doom. It symbolizes change, upheaval, and chaos, which I’m certainly experiencing right now.
But it also refers to the rebuilding after a catastrophe. Christchurch itself has suffered several horrendous earthquakes. One caused its magnificent cathedral to crumble, and I’ve never seen such a sad sight as the remnants of that sacred site. When a building has been so badly damaged, you have to destroy it, right down to its foundations. Only then can you start to rebuild it. You’ll never be able to recreate the original. You can only hope to construct something new, maybe even better, in its place.
That’s what’s happening to me now. The night of the summer solstice was the lightning strike, and now it feels as if everything is falling down around my ears. But I realize it has to, in order to create a better future. I have to destroy, in order to rebuild.
I sit with my hand over my mouth for a while, letting that thought sink in.
I read the message one more time. Then I type a reply.
Me: Hey, sweetie.
He replies almost immediately. Hey! I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.
Me: How could I not, after that message?
Henry: Ah, shit. I regretted it as soon as I pressed send. I know you don’t need all that right now.
Me: It was exactly what I needed.
Then, quickly, I add:
Me: I miss you so, so much.
Me: And just so you know, you’re not the only one who’s obsessed.
Me: I think about you night and day, with all my heart.
Henry: Are you trying to make me cry?
I give a short laugh.
Me: Maybe!
Henry: I don’t need much provocation tonight.
